


Filthy & Fluffy Clyde Ficlets Vol. 1

by jynzandtonic



Category: Adam Driver Character Universe, Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Come Eating, Creampie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mirror Sex, More CWs in individual chapters!, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29930310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynzandtonic/pseuds/jynzandtonic
Summary: A collection of the dirty (and sometimes sweet) prompts I've filled for Clyde Logan on tumblr.1. Clyde's first time eating pussy2. Phone sex3. Rowdy fuckin' with Clyde4. Comforting you after a fight with a friend/parent5. Touch starved, dirty-talking Clyde6. Clyde likes your stretchy leggings7. The first time Clyde made your cheeks go hot8. Clyde wants a baby for Christmas9. Making Clyde do a homemade facemask10. Teaching Clyde to dance11. Sweet n sensual mirror sex12. Leaving the big city and reassuring Clyde of your decision13. Daddy!Clyde fucking your ass at Duck Tape14. Facesitting with Daddy!Clyde15. Making you cum seven times in a row (for luck)16. Crying on Clyde's cock17. Filthy fucking at Duck Tape
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Kudos: 26





	1. Clyde's first time eating pussy

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr [@jynzandtonic](jynzandtonic.tumblr.com)! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡  
> ················································

**_(cw: oral sex f-receiving)_ **

______________________________

He wants to kiss ya—kiss ya down there. Suck you clean like a fresh piece of honeycomb.

His eyes are big and soft as his lips trail down your belly, pausing at your hips to press his love into your skin.

“Can I, darlin?” he asks. “Can I?”

You’re nearly bliss-gone already; the best you can do is nod and writhe and say, “Please, Clyde, please.”

He slides his tongue between your folds like he’s dipping into a jar of raspberry jam from the summer market—a sweet, secret treat for him, only him. He moans. He wants to eat you whole.

“I love the way you feel on my mouth.”

You’re so silky-slick down here, so sensitive. Your hips buck each time he grazes your swollen clit and he wants more, more, more, holding your belly down with heavy hands.

 _He’s gonna make you cum like this_ , he thinks. _And then he’s gonna do it again._


	2. Phone sex with Clyde

**_(cw: phone sex, 'girl')_ **

______________________________

“ _Where are ya right now, darlin?_ ” His voice is too dark, too low.

“I’m at home, sweets—what’s going on?” you ask.

“Any company ‘round?”

“No, no…” you furrow your brows, confused. Clyde should be at the bar till close; he’s usually too busy serving drinks to call in the early evening like this. But you suppose the after-work crowd hasn’t quite shown up yet—maybe he has a spare moment to say hi.

He puffs out a sigh, and you can nearly see his plush pink lips part to release the breath as it crackles in the receiver. “Honeygirl, I’m just dyin’ to listen to ya touch that sweet little pussy for

me. Would ya? Would ya do that for me right now?”

It’s your turn to sigh, your exhale shaky at Clyde’s request. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, suddenly conscious of how tight your skin feels.

You answer softly, as if someone might overhear. “Mhmm, yeah. Yes. I would.”

“Oh, you’re such a good girl, darlin’, such a sweet girl. Go get in bed, will ya? Take off all yer clothes and get comfortable, darlin’. You tell me when you’re there, okay?”

Layers of clothing fall to the floor as you find your way to the bedroom. Sinking back onto the mattress, you listen to Clyde’s deep breaths, wishing you could feel the warmth of them wash over your skin.

“I’m… I’m here, baby. I’m ready.”

“That’s my girl, that’s my darlin’ girl. I bet you look jus’ beautiful right now—not a stitch on ya. I’d love to suck on those sweet titties of yours.”

You tweak a nipple between your thumb and forefinger, imagining Clyde’s hand kneading you, his soft, hot mouth latching onto you.

A needy little moan falls from your lips, and Clyde hums.

“So beautiful, darlin’, could jus’ drink you up. Now tell me, honeygirl— _are you wet for me?_ ”


	3. Rowdy fuckin' with Clyde

He’s shiny with sweat, little droplets wetting down his mane and dripping from the tip of his nose. He’d do anything for you—but you already know that.

Sitting on his heels at the end of the bed, your ass propped up on his thighs, your legs on his chest, he pounds into your cunt deeper than you’ve ever felt it before. His good hand anchors you by the shoulder, slamming you back into his hips with every stroke.

“Fuck me harder, Mr. Logan,” you pant out. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“You want more, little darlin’?” he snarls. “You want more from your big bear?”

_Ahuh, ahuh, ahuh,_ you nod, head spinning from the way his cock grinds against your front wall.

He pushes your legs to the side real rough-like and grabs under your hip. 

“Ass up. _Right now_.”

You roll onto your knees, spread your legs wide so he can push his big fat cock back inside you… and goddamn, it nearly makes you cry every time.

“You better put your face in that pillow, honeygirl,” he growls as he grabs a handful of your hair, snapping his hips into you faster and faster. “I don’t want the neighbors callin’ the law.”


	4. Comforting you after a fight with a friend/parent

**_(cw: light alcohol consumption)_ **

______________________________

“Let’s get outta here for a little while,” he says softly, kissing you on the forehead. “Got someplace special I want to take you.”

You sit all bundled up in the passenger seat of Clyde’s old Nova, grateful he’d picked you up at the drop of a hat… but that’s typical Clyde, isn’t it?

The engine rumbles as he pulls away from the parking lot, and he turns the heater up on high, directing the flow of warm air down toward your feet—he knows they’re always cold this time of year. 

“Need to stop by the bar real quick, darlin’,” he says, turning the wheels onto the familiar road toward Duck Tape. You’re loath to move when the glow of the orange lights comes into view, and he can tell; your frame is crumpled and your head rests against the cool window, grateful for the support. “Want to stay in the car?” 

You nod half-heartedly.

Your heart still stings from the argument—it’s a burning ache in your chest, like acid is washing up toward your throat. You look up at the stars through the window, icy bright in the clear sky. The little bit of time and physical distance has helped to ease the tension some, but your shoulders are still raised, arms still wrapped around your torso defensively.

Clyde walks out of the bar with a big thermos and a wooly plaid blanket tucked under his arm. He picks up a bundle of wood resting next to the door with his good hand and heads to load up the car.

Cold air rushes in when he opens the door to settle himself in the driver’s seat, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is tender and warm. 

He takes a road you’ve never been on before, winding upward through the woods. Turning off on a dirt road, you emerge into a clearing where the stars seem twice as close as they were before—you must be nearly on top of one of the rolling Boone county mountains. 

“You stay right here for just a minute, alright?” he smiles, hopping out of the car and closing the door behind him.

He fetches the bundle of wood from the trunk and gathers up a handful of twigs from the ground. You watch through the now-foggy glass as he makes a neat stack of kindling and firewood, lighting it on the very first try. With a few puffs from his broad chest, you see a fire crackling from within the small ring of stones.

Clyde returns to the car, grabs the blanket and thermos, opens your door like the gentleman he is. You take his hand as he leads you toward the campfire and sits you down next to him on a smooth log, wrapping the toasty blanket around the both of you. He opens the thermos, and the rich scent of hot chocolate wafts to your nostrils—but that’s not the only thing.

“Did you put bourbon in this?” You wrinkle your nose cheekily.

“Oh, just a lil’ bit,” he says with a wink, nuzzling into your side.

You take a deep sip, and the cocoa starts to melt away everything you’ve been carrying—or maybe it’s the heat radiating off Clyde’s large frame.

He wraps an arm around you, holding you close.

“Now, tell me what’s on your mind, darlin’.” 


	5. Touch-starved, dirty-talking Clyde

**_(cw: creampies, face-sitting)_ **

______________________________

He trembles as he first touches ya, he really does. There’ve been pretty girls at Duck Tape before, but _none_ as pretty as you—and none’a those girls had ever gave him a second look as soon as they saw his prosthetic from behind the bar. But not you, with your bright eyes and your big ol’ grin. You’d only leaned in closer on your barstool, looked up at him softer, added a _pretty please_ when ya ordered two bourbons, pushing the second toward him. 

He’s scared to hold ya too close, to impose on ya; he’s scared that his _need_ or the brush of his bad hand’ll send ya runnin’. But it don’t. You grab him by the forearms and press his hands— _both of ‘em_ —into the small of your back, and the gasp that comes outta him is _wild_.

You slide your whole body up against his, snag his shirt collar in your fist, and kiss him deep. He crushes you in an embrace you can’t help but feel he’s been holdin’ back for _years_. Sweet Clyde is gone, gone, gone for ya. 

“Darlin’ I ain’t never tasted anything sweet as your pussy in m’whole life,” he gasps, barely coming up for air. “You’re sweeter than _honey_ , I could just _drink_ ya, I—” He dives back between your legs, laving at your clit and dipping into your entrance with urgency and tenderness. 

Your bodies tangle together, rocking and thrusting. His gaze is apologetic, hopeful. “Could I cum in ya? Could I please fill up your sweet, tight pussy, darlin’? Could I please?” 

When you look him straight in his warm, brown eyes and say, “ _You damn well better, Mr. Logan,_ ” he moans without reticence.

“Oh darlin, oh darlin, oh darlin’,” he pants as he starts to cum, holding to you like shelter in a storm, his cheek pressed to yours. “ _What did I do to deserve ya?_ ”

You lie on sweat-soaked sheets, still humming with energy, Clyde holding you tight. He looks at you bashfully. “Please, honey girl, ‘m so sorry, would ya pretty please come and sit on my face?”


	6. Clyde likes your stretchy leggings

**_(cw: oral sex f-receiving)_ **

______________________________

“Christ almighty darlin’, are you tryin’ ta kill a man?” Clyde walks into the living room, bleary-eyed and hair mussed from sleep. Your feet are spread in a wide stance and firmly planted on your foam mat, your torso hanging down between your legs… and it’s clear that your cute ass up in the air is the first thing Clyde’s seen of ya this mornin’.

He bumbles over—your sweet, big bear of a man—and wraps his hand around your waist, pressing his morning wood up against your bottom and groaning happily. You giggle and wiggle your hips against him, feeling the outline of his thick cock through your thin, stretchy leggings.

“Well I reckon this is the reason you can getch’ya legs up on my shoulders, ain’t it?” he asks, pressing into you harder, and you can practically _hear_ his smile. “It might be,” you chime back, feeling yourself start to throb against him. Somethin’ tells ya you won’t be getting through the rest of your stretches today.

“Oh, darlin’… You’ve got a little wet spot on ya,” Clyde moans, dropping to his knees behind you. He presses his nose and lips against your clothed heat, soaked through with slick for him, and he breathes in deep, exhaling with a hum. He starts to peel down your tights, tugging the fabric down over your ass. “Can I take care of that for ya?”


	7. The first time Clyde made your cheeks go hot

**_(cw: cum-eating, cockwarming)_ **

______________________________

“I wanna see it… See it on your tongue,” he says, voice steady, eyes focused on yours. “Show me before ya swallow.”

Heat floods your cheeks, still hollowed around Clyde’s stiff cock.

He’s usually so modest, so chivalrous–but this filth drippin’ from his mouth makes you feel flushed, feel thirsty for his cum. 

You look up, wide-eyed. 

He looks down–his sweet angel, lips wrapped ‘round him nice and tight, suckin’ on him like he’s a strawberry milkshake with a cherry on top.

And that’s all you need to start bobbing on his length, slurping and moaning as you drag your lips from base to tip.

He’s smitten, Clyde, seein’ you like this, knowin’ how much you love him, and he’s, he’s…

He floods you with his spend, rope after rope of his cum spilling into your mouth, panting with his head thrown back.

You squeeze his hip, bring his gaze down to you, tongue out, proud.

You swallow with a happy gulp, show your tongue again. 

“Darlin, I ain’t never…” he pants, but it’s too late.

You take his spent cock in your mouth, waiting till he’s hard again.


	8. Clyde wants a baby for Christmas

**_(cw: breeding kink, holiday mentions)_ **

______________________________

You’ve been asking him since Thanksgiving.

_What do you want for Christmas, Clyde?_

He just smiles real sweet.

“Oh, nothin’. Just you, darlin’.”

_What do you want for Christmas, Clyde?_

“What more could a man hope for than someone like you?”

_What do you want for Christmas, Clyde?_

“Don’t you worry yourself about presents’n things. I’m just fine.”

The two of you sit snuggled on the couch, enjoying the glow of the little Christmas tree you’d cut down and decorated together. You kiss down the side of his neck—sweet smooches from the spot behind his ear to the swell of his shoulder. He gives a happy, grumbly hum, squeezing you tighter.

He’s unsuspecting now—it’s the perfect opportunity.

You swing a leg over his hips to straddle him, wrapping your arms around him.

“Clyde, honey, tell me what you want for Christmas,” you smile.

“You are incorrigible, do you know that?” he says, squeezing your ass with his big paw. “Do you _really_ want to know what I want for Christmas?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes,” you grin.

He looks up at you with dark eyes.

“I want a baby.”

Your jaw falls slack—half gasp, half moan. You can feel his cock hardening underneath you.

“Clyde, I—” 

“I wanna fuck a baby into ya right here under the Christmas tree.” He places his hand on your belly, thumb stroking back and forth. “I want you to be so swollen up with me by August that you could pop.”

Your lip quivers; your pussy drips. You stay frozen on the spot.

“Whaddaya say, darlin’? Are you gonna give me my present?” His gaze bores holes into you.

“Why wait till Christmas?” you ask.


	9. Making Clyde do a homemade facemask

He huffs out a breath in subtle protest, plush lips pouted as you finish the last plait and secure it with an elastic.

“Perfect,” you muse, sitting back to admire your handiwork. Even while he’s frowning, Clyde looks _adorable_ in French braids.

Hey, you had to get his hair out of his face _somehow_.

You grab the bowl you’d prepared—chilled in the fridge as an extra cooling treat, too—and set it on the coffee table.

“You ready?” you ask him.

“Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he says, resigned to his fate.

His little pigtails sweep his shoulders as he turns to offer his face to you.

. . . . . .

“I smell like a damn cobbler,” he grumbles.

“Shh! I’m not finished yet.”

You smear another glob of sweet-scented facemask onto his cheek, carefully spreading the thick indigo mixture around his nose.

“Might as well enter me in the County Fair pie contest.”

“Well, you _could_ eat it if you wanted to. It’s just blueberries and honey from the market blended up with oats!”

“Remind me why I’m lettin’ you rub this all over my face?”

“Because it’ll make you preeeeetty,” you grin. He wrinkles his nose. “Okay,” you elaborate. “The blueberries have lots of good vitamins and minerals and antioxidants, the oats soothe irritation, and the honey is a humectant to help with moisture. Your skin is gonna GLOW after this, babe!”

Clyde looks equal parts confused and concerned.

“Whaddaya mean? Glowin’ like a lightning bug?! An antioxi-what?”

You’d kiss him on the cheek if he weren’t covered in blueberry goop.

You smile.

“I mean it’ll make your face soft, Clyde.”


	10. Teaching Clyde to dance

“Darlin,” he huffs, concerned. “I dance like I got two left feet—”

“That’s no reason not to dance.”

“—and no left hand—”

“Never bothered me.”

“—and what if someone sees? Blunderin’ around with a pretty lil’ thing like you…”

“I’ll close the blinds,” you say, making your way to the wide, wood-trimmed windows and snapping the slats shut.

It’s just you and **Clyde** in the bar enjoying the lazy afternoon—folks won’t start comin’ round for a few more hours—and the song that comes on the jukebox makes your heart go topsy-turvy.

You just _can’t_ resist.

“Come here, you,” you grin, waving him over.

He drops his head, looking all too much like a big puppy as he makes his way to meet you in the middle of the floor. Try as he might to pout, the corners of his mouth pull up of their own accord when you slide your body flush to his. You grab his wrists and pull them around you, bringing his hands to rest on your lower back.

As your arms lace up and over his shoulders—warm and solid beneath you—you rock up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear: “I’ll even let you grab my butt.”

He chuckles, a smile breaking freely across his face. “Will ya now?” His good hand dips lower, giving your ass a squeeze and pulling you closer to him. “That wouldn’t be a very gentlemanly thing for me t’do, darlin’, would it?”

You wink and say you won’t tell a soul.

His eyes are bright and soft when you lean up to find his lips, kissing him sweetly as you start to sway in time with the music, pulling him along with you. You tuck your chin to rest your cheek against his chest—and god, it feels so good to hear his heartbeat.

“What should I be doin’?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“Just this,” you smile. Your head doesn’t leave his chest.

The jukebox plays; the wood floor creaks underfoot. You and Clyde rock gently to the melody. His voice is soft in your hair when he finally speaks. “Ya know, this is… nice.”


	11. Sweet n sensual mirror sex

**_(cw: mirror sex)_ **

______________________________

It’s the first thing he sees when he walks into the bedroom: the whole of ‘im, head-to-toe, right there in the full-length mirror. You join him in the doorframe, your reflections meeting as you slide your body in front of his, wrapping his arms around you.

“What do you think?” you ask over your shoulder, grinding your ass back into him.

“I think we look damn good together,” he rumbles into your ear.

“I meant about the mirr—oh…” you trail off as Clyde’s hand slides up your shirt to knead at your breasts, the bulge of his cock apparent at your lower back. He tweaks your nipple and sucks at the base of your neck before tugging the shirt straight over your head, leaving it in a puddle on the floor. 

“Get’cherself undressed, honeybee,” he breathes, pulling his own shirt off to drop it next to your own. “Wanna see all’a you.”

Your eyes rake each other’s frames as you shed your layers, finally bare for each other. You can hardly keep from sinking to your knees at the sight of Clyde’s thick, flushed cock bobbing proudly from his body, but he spins you to face away from him, your profiles accentuated in the mirror.

He’s slow to sweep his cockhead through your silky folds, gathering the lush wetness he finds there. He’s slow to press his tip to your entrance, slow to push his head inside, slow to rock his length into you. His eyes are glued to where the reflection of his cock disappears into you, watching the way you take _all_ of him. _A damn miracle._

And then he sees your face. Sees your lips gently parted, your brow furrowed in pleasure-pain, your eyelids fluttering.

“ _Look at us, honeybee,_ ” he says, pulling you back on his cock, arching your upper back to meet his chest. “ _Jus’ look at us._ ”


	12. Leaving the big city and reassuring Clyde of your choice

They still don’t understand, they couldn’t—why you’d leave the swanky job in the big city, why you’d give up the nightlife and the friends and the international airport. 

You still don’t understand quite why you decided to take your rental car on a drive that lonely night on a work trip to Charleston, or how you ended up at a little backwoods bar in Boone County. 

But you understand exactly what kept you there: the bartender. It wasn’t just his gentle drawl, his large frame, his dark amber eyes, no—it was his heart. That kindness that warmed up your heart hotter than a shot of bourbon. He’d said it was bad luck to drink alone, but you couldn’t feel luckier to have found him here. You’d kissed him soft and slow in the cool West Virginia night, loathe to leave after such a short time together.

“It’s a long drive back to Charleston, darlin’,” he’d whispered, eyes full of yearning.

“And it’s so late,” you’d replied, lips centimeters from his. “Maybe it’s best to drive back in the morning…”

But you never did. 

You’ve made a life here for yourself, a _home_ … something the big city never felt like to you. 

Clyde gulps, adjusting his button-down nervously. It’s the first time he’s meetin’ em—your big city friends.

“What if they don’t like me?” His lips fix into a plump pout, worry spreading across his face.

“They’ll love you just as much as I do, sweetheart,” you soothe, running your hands over his chest.

“I just—” he sighs, studying the ceiling, “—I just don’t have much to show for folks like them. Got the bar, got the trailer, the garden. That’s it. Reckon I don’t have much for you, either, darlin’… Gotcha stuck out here in the middle’a nowhere, nothin’ fancy to do…”

“Hey,” you say sternly, cupping his face in your hands. “Don’t you ever think that about me, Clyde Logan. I’m exactly where I want to be. I’m with my big bear. You give me things my old life never could.”

“Like what?” he mumbles, unconvinced.

You crush your lips to his, channeling every bit of love you have for him into your kiss.

Pulling away, you smile. “ _You gave me our little family._ ”


	13. Daddy!Clyde fucking your ass at Duck Tape

**_(cw: daddy kink, anal, sex toys, semi-public sex)_ **

**________________________________ **

“Get in the office,” he rumbles, lips grazing your ear. “ _Right. Now._ ”

He kneads your ass underneath the bar, giving you a sharp spank to spur your departure.

He follows you closely, not caring who sees him rushing you to the back of the bar. Folks can wait on their next round of drinks.

“Show me,” he husks. “Wanna get a better look at that.”

“Oh, this?” you ask, bending over the desk, hiking up your skirt.

“You put this in just for yer Daddy?” 

His hands spread your cheeks wide, the little jewel glimmering in your ass.

“Mhm,” you moan as he taps the end of it. “Just for you. Do you like it?”

“I do, darlin’, I do… but I can think of somethin’ else I’d like to put in there, too.”

Your tight ring of muscle squeezes desperately at the plug as Clyde starts to tug on the heart-shaped gem. He pulls on it slowly, jaw working at the sight of you stretching around its girth.

You moan soft and low as he withdraws it fully, leaving your little hole gaping for him.

The metallic slide of his zipper and the rustle of denim fills your ears, then you feel the fat head of him tapping against you.

He presses his tip to your pucker, groaning as he sinks in the first delicious centimeters. Your eyes well with hot tears, the delectable burn of it traveling straight to your cunt. You bite into the side of your hand, willing yourself not to make a sound.

“That was a good start,” he says, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into your ass as you welcome him in. “But I think we can stretch ya out a little more.”


	14. Facesitting with Daddy!Clyde

**_(cw: facesitting, daddy kink)_ **

______________________________

You’re so damn pretty.

And it’s so nice to stretch out like this, to lean back and watch you ride his cock with your mouth dropped open, those dulcet sounds tumblin’ from your lips. 

You’re taking just what you need, fucking yourself just right, and he can see the way you tremble each time you grind your sweet little clit against him.

But he doesn’t just want to _feel_ you cum, he wants to _taste_ you cum, too.

He pats on his sternum, warm thumps that beckon you upward.

“Come sit on yer Daddy’s face, honeybee,” he rumbles as you clamber toward his hungry mouth. “And keep on ridin’ me just like you were.”


	15. Making you cum seven times in a row (for good luck)

**_(cw: overstimulation, multiple orgasms)_ **

______________________________

He lets you rest between rounds just long enough… long enough for your ragged breaths to grow smooth again, long enough for your writhing body to still.

He doesn’t wait long enough for the ten tiny crescents your nails leave in his skin to fade, no—he wants those to stay.

He rocks his length into you from behind, his body molded to yours. It’s so easy to slip his fingers between your creamy-wet folds, to find your swollen clit, to rub you just the way you like it.

_Six_.

He’s gotta taste you for the last one.

Settling himself between your thighs, he tongues up all your honey, drinking in every bliss-exhausted moan that drips from your mouth.

He feels like the luckiest man in the world when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and tugging and teasing till you’re weeping and shaking.

_Lucky number seven._


	16. Crying on Clyde's cock

**_(cw: crying, size kink)_ **

______________________________

Any other time it’d break his damn heart to see you cry.

But he knows these tears are different—wellin’ up in your eyes and spillin’ down your cheeks while you gasp and moan so pretty.

You press your head back against the pillows, try your best to breathe while he’s pushing his impossibly thick cock deeper and deeper into you.

He always goes slow at first, makin’ sure you have the time to stretch around him.

Still feels like he’s splitting you in half… in the most delicious way.

You’re so tight, so juicy-slick, that he just can’t resist. He grabs your shoulder with his good hand, pulls you back toward him as he thrusts in the rest of the way.

You whimper and squeeze on him, try not to cum so soon.

“I knew you could do it, darlin’,” he whispers.


	17. Filthy fucking at Duck Tape

**_(cw: exhibitionism, semi-public sex, light alcohol consumption)_ **

______________________________

We’re closin’ early,” Clyde rumbles at the group of bar patrons when he sees you walk in wearing that. “Last round’s on the house. Now, get.”

You smile sweetly, lift a brow devilishly. You can see his jaw work, his fist clench and unclench at his side.

The last few folks shuffle out and Clyde locks the door behind them. He turns on his heel to face you, eyes lust-black.

“Take all that off, darlin.”

“Should I close the blinds fi—”

“Don’t make me ask ya twice,” he growls, and then he’s on you—striding up to press your ass up against the bar, tearing at your layers as you rush to undress, greedily mouthing at your exposed skin.

He pushes you back, back, back onto the bartop, all unwrapped for him, bare legs spread wide.

You grab a bottle of bourbon and eye him like the little tease you are. Tipping the bottle, you pour a splash of amber between your tits, let it trickle all the way down to your clit.

“Drink up,” you offer.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He drops to his knees and dives into your cunt, tonguing every honey-sweet drop from your folds. He licks up, up, up your body, licking you clean till he’s licking into your mouth, fiddling with his belt and the zipper of his jeans.

His stiff cock springs free from dark denim, hot and heavy and hungry for you.

“Gonna keep you here all night with you tastin’ so sweet,” he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> ················································
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr [@jynzandtonic](jynzandtonic.tumblr.com)! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡
> 
> [Buy me a whiskey?](www.ko-fi.com/jynzandtonic)
> 
> _No trigger is too small-- **ask me and I'll tag it!**_
> 
> **A brief note on sex and gender:** I'm AFAB nonbinary, so while I write for fem!reader (anatomy-wise) and I *do* have a soft spot for certain gendered pet names (which are always tagged if applicable), I hope there's enough space for folx at a variety of places on the gender spectrum to feel included in my fics xoxoxo.
> 
> ················································


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